


Give 'em a Show

by alphonseelric22



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphonseelric22/pseuds/alphonseelric22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not fair. Roy Mustang is not allowed to be funny and Ed damn well should not think he's hot but he does. This is really starting to turn into a shit night.</p><p>Set somewhere post-Brotherhood. No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give 'em a Show

**Author's Note:**

> First, sorry it's been so damn long since I've posted anything. Second, I love all of you <3 Third, I am working on rewriting Convalescence and I am going to try my hardest to get that up so it can be continued. Sorry that I suck at posting regularly XD
> 
> Last, I hope you enjoy this one :D

Ed usually hates parties. Parties mean extended social interaction, which is not at all aided by alcohol provided, and several chances to prove what an absolute dumbass he is (those chances are statistically higher with the aforementioned alcohol). They tend to culminate in him doing really stupid shit in front of people he doesn't know and just generally ruining the whole night before fucking off to mourn his whole stupid existence. Parties suck, unless they are a Jean Havoc party, and then they are one of the most awesome things you will ever attend.

If more of them were like that, then it would tilt the scales favorably in the direction of parties being awesome. Havoc parties consist of great booze, all the people he knows and gives a shit about, and some of the best fucking food ever. Ed can drink and no one cares if he makes an ass out of himself and they expect him to eat several sandwiches over the course of a three hour period as if it's normal. Ed really knows the best people in the whole goddamn universe.

Except for stupid Mustang. 

Stupid Mustang is currently stupidly grinning over his stupid drink, probably telling some dumb joke and acting all smooth as silk. Ed is stupidly watching after being stupidly struck by how much he just wants to grab the bastard and kiss the shit out of him. What the hell is wrong with him? Okay, so he might have noticed that Mustang might have been kind of hot and he might have noticed that he maybe started watching him more and more. He's definitely noticed what an idiot he is and that this time could just be the really good cocktails he's downed like water. What is in these anyways?

So, great party, great people, and he can't stop staring at his damn C.O. like this is the first time he's seen him. Maybe it's the clothes – is it called classy/casual? Ed's pretty sure Al has explained this before – that just show how easily he presents himself as approachable yet still higher on the food chain than the average guy. Or it's the air of comfort that familiarity brings with it. Or it's... shit, he wishes he could blame this on inebriation fucking up his thought processes. Well, he probably could but Alphonse would know (he _always_ knows) that Ed would be lying and of course it wouldn't take long before he's prodding him and Ed is shouting with questioning eyes on him. Not the alcohol then.

It's Mustang. It has to be. He's doing... something, some Roy Mustang thing to make Ed think weird shit so he can do his smirky thing and then tease him about it. Ed's pretty sure he gets some sick joy out of it. Roy shifts his drink to his other hand and smiles at Rebecca before continuing whatever conversation they're having. Ed can't actually hear what they're saying, but he can hear the lower pitch of Mustang's voice well enough that he has to hide the shiver that attempts to tear through him.

He's heard that voice in his head at night, starting off with sarcastic comments about late reports then shifting to a low rumble that he swears he can feel moving down to his bones to heat him straight through.

Fuck, it's hot in here.

Ed downs another cocktail just before hearing a “Hey, boss,” that makes him jump straight out of his skin.

He turns around and makes a valiant attempt to impale Havoc with nothing more than a fierce glare. “Don't fucking do that.”

The asshole laughs and Ed frowns. “What the hell's up with you?”

Ed raises an eyebrow. “Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Liar. The chief piss you off or something?”

Oh fucking fuck his cheeks are warming up and he can't stop it. “Still don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't try to bullshit me. You've been glaring at him for an hour straight.”

If Havoc has noticed then Al definitely has and he knows exactly what Ed is doing and shit he is fucking doomed isn't he? Still, he can at least try to lie his way through it. “So what if I have? He's a jackass,” Ed says and goes to take another drink but remembers after tipping the glass that it's empty.

Havoc snorts. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, boss,” he says before walking away.

He needs another damn drink. Ed turns to go get one, and just as his fingers close around the plastic cup, his spine tingles and he turns and his face fucking flames. He is going to kill Jean Havoc and anyone who tries to stop him. Mustang is right next to him, trademark smirk in place and drink still in hand. “The fuck do you want?” he asks.

“Have I done something to upset you?” he asks but it's in that tone that lets Ed know anything he says can and _will_ be used against him.

Shit, that _voice_ could be used against him as a weapon to destroy every ounce of willpower he has and it is and fuck gotta stop thinking about that with the attractive bastard right next to him. He takes a gulp of his drink then frowns. “When don't you?”

Mustang laughs and that only makes everything about tonight worse. “At least no one can say I am not consistent.”

“Bullshit,” Ed says because the bantering is easy, because they've been carefully throwing knives at each other for years and it's simple to fall back on that as their default in conversation. “When have you ever consistently done your work and not slacked off?”

“About as often as you have turned in a coherent report?”

“Fuck you,” Ed says. “Why am I talking to you?”

“I was under the impression that conversing with others was one of the things one does at a party.”

“They can also drink and ignore your bullshit,” Ed says, side eyeing him as he takes another gulp of whatever kind of cocktail he has in his cup.

“I think there is plenty of that happening in this room at the moment.”

This is not fair. Roy Mustang is not allowed to be funny and Ed damn well should not think he's hot but he _does_. This is really starting to turn into a shit night.

Apparently, Ed not talking is invitation enough for Mustang to keep doing so.

“I've finally made my peace with it,” he says.

Ed snorts and grins. “Took you that long?”

“I never said I was actually intelligent, only gave the thinnest of pretenses that I am.”

“You're doing a shitty job,” Ed says.

“My powers never did seem to work on you, Edward.”

Holy shit. The way hearing just his fucking name in that voice makes his spine tingle is not fucking cool. Why in the fuck does Roy fucking Mustang, slacker extraordinaire and bastard to the highest degree, get to have this kind of power over him? Why can't he just fuck off and let Ed pickle his brain cells in peace? Gotta move this conversation somewhere else, preferably to Drachma where it can freeze and die in the snow.

“So, what the fuck was the reason for this party anyways?” Not that he's complaining about free food and free cocktails but, y'know, a new conversation that isn't even related to the other one, not even distantly, is his main goal right now.

“I believe Jean's exact words were 'I bought some kick ass booze and Becky made a ton of awesome food. Come over.'”

Ed grins around the rim of his cup. “That's a dumb ass reason for a party.”

“We are speaking of Jean Havoc, a man known throughout Central for both his atrocious smoking habit as well as his atrocious dating record.”

Ed almost spits his cocktail back into the cup when he laughs but thank fuck he doesn't because it is pretty good after all. How many of these has he had, anyways? His head is sort of floaty and his nerves are buzzing a bit now, both from the alcohol and the proximity to Mustang. Nope. Not gonna think about that.

The music playing in the room shifts and goes slower, a soft ballad beginning to play, and Ed wants to run from the room as fast as possible as everyone starts pairing off for a dance. It's like the universe is just screaming at him to just jump Roy Mustang right here and now. There's no way in _hell_ he'll ever do that for a few reasons. Doesn't mean he can't bring up dancing as a point of conversation, though.

“You aren't gonna go dance with someone?” he asks, finding his cup empty when he goes for another drink. He's been drinking this shit way too fast if he can't even remember finishing it.

Mustang's smile is real soft this time and the pull in Ed's chest just grows more fierce. Mother _fucker_. “No. I'm perfectly content to just talk with you.”

Ed stares down into his empty cup and wonders what in the fuck Mustang is talking about. Nobody likes talking with him, except maybe Al, but he's kind of stuck with him so it's not like he has much of a choice. His eyes dart to the side to look at Mustang and one of his eyebrows go up. “Why in the fuck would you wanna do that? I'm halfway to drunk and already a shitty conversationalist when I'm sober.”

“On the contrary,” he says, “I've found conversation with you to be rather fulfilling, despite the many expletives littered throughout your sentences. You don't seem to notice that you are rather witty and bright, especially when it comes to our particular form of bantering.”

Ed swallows hard and refuses to look up. “Bullshit.”

“None whatsoever. It's also rather refreshing that you are one of the few people who does not take what I say at face value. It's quite nice to speak to someone who sees through the actual bullshit but doesn't hold it against someone.”

Just like that, Ed's control snaps and, before he even realizes what he's doing, his cup is on the floor and his right hand is fisted in Roy's shirt and hauling him down into a kiss. Shit shit _shit_. His brain is screaming for him to stop and run from the premises, but holy _hell_ do Roy's lips feel good against his own and now his other hand is joining the first one in crumpling the fabric against Roy's chest. There's a moment where he's pretty sure Mustang is going to push him away in disgust, but then there's fingers skating over his jaw and a hand threading through his ponytail and Ed barely swallows the groan.

Roy's hand in his hair moves down to cup the base of his head and tilt it back and just like that his tongue is in Ed's mouth and he's dizzy as hell from it all. Ed's end of the kiss is sort of desperate and probably sloppy as all hell but Roy damn well knows what he's doing as his tongue flicks against Ed's then moves over his bottom lip. Ed presses in closer and bites, probably not too gently, down on Roy's lip and when he pulls back the bastard's eyes are flickering with something he can't pinpoint and his fingers are scratching at the base of his skull. Holy shit that feels _amazing_.

“Well, that was rather unexpected,” Roy says but he doesn't take his hands off of Ed and his whole body goes tight and it's like he's being pulled by some unseen force towards Roy.

Ed tries to talk, but it's like his heart decided to lodge itself in his throat. That can't be healthy and how the hell is the bastard able to do this to him? When did their whole dynamic change to a glance being able to pique every nerve in Ed's body in the best kind of way?

“I hope I'm not getting ahead of myself,” Roy says, “but would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night?”

Talking about food jars Ed's brain back to the right place again. “Fuck yes.”

Roy smiles and Ed can vaguely feel eyes on them but can't really bring himself to give a shit right now. “It might be best to continue this where curious eyes will not be seeking us out.”

“Fuck 'em,” Ed says and he's grinning now as he brings his hips in against Roy's. He can't help feeling a little pride at the way Roy's whole expression goes from being content to just pure wanting with that one action. Ed cannot wait to do that more and with less clothes on. It's kind of scary how quickly he's just accepted that this is how it'll probably be now. “Let's give them a show they'll never forget.”

“Never,” Roy says and now his lips are ghosting over Ed's throat, “have I heard a more tantalizing prospect.”

He brings his mouth back up to Ed's and Ed falls into it and can't help thinking that this is the best party _ever_.


End file.
